


Catwave

by Hiver_Frost_Elf



Series: Fauna Saga [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Cats, Humor, M/M, basically a coldwave cat version of formerlyknownasyay's Not a Dog Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9864317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiver_Frost_Elf/pseuds/Hiver_Frost_Elf
Summary: Len has to take care of a pryomaniacal feline for the next 24 hours, more or (theoretically) less.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Not A Dog Person](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9857327) by [everyperfectsummer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyperfectsummer/pseuds/everyperfectsummer). 



Flash was zipping to and fro amidst yet another clash between him and Cold and Heatwave.  Central Park served as their battleground: trees elves would envy, grass greener than new recruits, lilies daintier than a dress.  Fire blitzed and ice blazed from the Rogues’ weapons.  Flash rolled, spun, dashed—any trick he could think of to shake them off.

Flash tripped into someone who was at that age where strangers can’t tell if they’re too young to drink or too young to drive.  She was wearing a costume which included a mask with colors as intense as a peacock and fur-tipped cat ears.  The weirdo curled over her charge—a German shepherd puppy—and Flash when Heatwave’s flames licked too close to them.  Stars zoomed from the weirdo’s gloves and all of a sudden, Heatwave was a cat.

“Nyan???” Heatwave’s weapon landed beside him with a _clunk_.  He sniffed it before yowling and charging at the weirdo.

“I can fix this!” she claimed with one hand cradling the puppy and another out at Heatwave. “....I think.” Stars fizzled out of her free hand.  She bit her lip and winced at Cold. “The good news is, this only lasts for 24 hours at most!”

Heatwave hissed and clawed into the weirdo’s leg to no avail.  The weirdo hmphed proudly, having constructed her costume specifically to deal with furious critters.

She did not, however, construct it to endure ticked off husbands, “Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing here???”

The weirdo flickered her dirt-brown gaze at the puppy.  One of her neighbors lost the little guy yesterday, and her beastly abilities allowed her to track it.

Heatwave continued scowling at her even though Cold released his grip on the weirdo’s jacket.  Cold’s frown tightened upon the weirdo as his kittified husband toddled alongside him, “For your sake, this better wear off in precisely 23 hours, 52 minutes, and seventeen seconds or sooner or the Rogues Gallery will pay you a visit.”

Fauna and Flash gulped at they stormed away.  The puppy reminded them of its presence by yipping.  Flash shook hands with the newcomer, “Barry Allen.”

“Hermey Ellen!” Fauna chirped. “This guy’s owners are huge Flash fans; wanna come along???  They’ll flip that their favorite hero found ‘im!”

“Sure,” Flash nodded as they left the park together, “but I’m not taking credit for your work.” He sped his and his team’s numbers into her phone. “Here, if you ever need training, medical care, whatever—call us and we’ll be more than happy to help.”

“Likewise!” Fauna glowed with awe-struck gratitude before dissolving into self-depreciation, “Well, I only know to perform first aid on animals, and all I can really train you how to do is host a radio show; if I was a Super Smash Bros character, I’d be Mr. Game & Watch cuz I’m a joke.”

“I wasn’t amazing when I started out either, and I had the sociopath who killed my mom training me,” Flash patted her back. “Trust me, the only way to go is up.”

“Or you could just go nowhere!”

Flash shook his head and chuckled as they crossed the street and headed towards Fauna’s apartment complex.

Len and Mick arrived at the nearest safehouse.  Mick’s tiger-style fur frazzled and frizzled with rage.  He invaded a cabinet, uncovered a spare lighter, and did whatever he could think of to light it.  His chomps and scratches yielded nothing.  Mick merrrrowwwwed at Len before slumping on the floor.  Len picked up his pathetic pyro and the lighter.  Mick watched the flames dance in Len’s hand for hours until hunger gnawed at them.  Mick leapt off Len as gracefully as a cement truck: digging into Len’s thigh and crashing onto the floor.

Len gathered up ingredients for chicken parmesan before he called Flash, “Does George of the Jungle know if Mick can eat human food?”

“Uh…” No. “Let me check.” _Jeopardy!_ music played while Flash put him on hold. “Don’t feed him milk—that’ll cause a train wreck in his digestive system; Hermey’s words, not mine—and make sure he gets lots of water and protein.”

“Nyan!” Mick licked his lips at that.  Len ditched the parmesan and simply fed Mick chicken.  Mick played soccer with it before consuming it.  Len groaned at all the crumbs infesting the place.  Len swept it up only for Mick to bat at the broom, shimmy between Len’s legs, and behave brattier than Lisa during her teenage years.

Finally, a reasonable hour to sleep moseyed along.  It took the tubby tabby five tries to reach the bed.  One time, he pulled the quilt down with him, but the next time, he proudly pranced onto the bed.  Len had barely pulled the quilt back into its proper place before Mick was kneading Len’s chest.  He flopped into the crook of Len’s neck.

Len futilely pushed Mick out of his face.  Mick returned with a vengeance.  Now Len couldn’t breathe _and_ smelled fluffy cat butt.  Eventually, Mick rolled off and commenced purring incessantly in Len’s ear.

Len decided right then and there that he HATED cats… almost as much as he hated Fauna.

Mick licked Len’s cheek before curling around himself as tightly as possible.  He was as small as a kitten by the time he resettled.  Len woke up the next morning suffocated by his heavyass husband wreathed over him and rubbing their noses together.  Len’s pupils dilated when Mick rubbed their crotches together.  Mick growled when Len tore his attention away from him to check his phone.

_Folks tend to act like their animal for a little bit after they rehuman.  Did u know domestic cats can go into heat any time of the year? Although they prefer to mate in summer or spring so kittens aren’t born during winter (lower chance of survival & all that). Happy mating!_

Fauna stared at the text she’d just sent and blushed horrifically.  She slunk her phone back into her pocket and did her best to pretend that she _totally didn’t_ just tell THE Captain Cold that his husband was on a different kind of fire than normal.

The End!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking time to read this :) enjoy what you do here and everywhere!


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